The Gate of Eight Worlds

Chapter 15:The Sky Strike on the Dreadnought

The heavy iron mortar shell roared through the moonlight, leaving a thick, sulfurous trail of red smoke across the dark sky.

"Hard to port!" King Richard bellowed, throwing his full weight against the heavy wooden wheel of The Sea-Drake.

The flagship leaned sharply into the swell, its oak timbers groaning as the massive spiked projectile plunged into the churning sea forty yards off the starboard bow. A tower of black, steaming water erupted into the night air, raining seafoam and iron shrapnel down upon the deck.

"Barnaby, now!" Alex shouted, vaulting over the aft rail onto the griffin's harness.

Dwaho scrambled up behind him, securing his sling around his wrist while locking his boots into the leather stirrups. With a fierce, brassy screech that echoed over the thundering roar of the iron dreadnought’s churn-wheels, Barnaby spread his thirty-foot golden wings and launched into the gale. The powerful downbeat of his wings lifted them off the deck, soaring high above the white-capped waves as The Sea-Drake opened fire with its bow-carronades.

Below them, General Vane’s iron warship looked like a floating mountain of riveted steel. Crimson sparks showered from its four towering smokestacks, while iron-clad archers lined the elevated walkways, cranking heavy crossbows aimed skyward.

"Dwaho, locate the primary drive housing!" Alex yelled over the screaming wind, unsheathing his blade.

Dwaho leaned forward over Barnaby’s neck, his eyes flaring with the electric-blue radiance of the Sight. The dark smoke and solid iron plates dissolved before his vision, revealing the glowing red network of steam-conduits deep within the hull.

"The port churn-wheel axle!" Dwaho called out, pointing toward a massive, rotating brass hub jutting from the stern quarter. "The internal pressure line runs right through the upper housing behind the main mortar platform! If you rupture the main feed, the steam pressure will shatter the churn-wheel axle!"

"Hold on!" Alex warned.

Barnaby tucked his wings and went into a steep, roaring dive straight toward the dreadnought’s quarterdeck. Crossbow bolts whistled past them, snapping against the griffin's leather armor and glancing off the steel stirrups. Ten feet above the iron deck, Barnaby flared his wings, creating a sudden pocket of air that checked their momentum just long enough for Alex to unleash his power.

Alex raised his blade with both hands. The pale crest on his right palm exploded into a blinding sun-fire beam, channeling pure golden light down the fuller of his sword until the steel burned white-hot.

"For the Eight Realms!" Alex roared, thrusting his glowing blade straight into the brass housing of the port drive.

The sun-fire pierced six inches of forged brass like warm wax. Heat beyond the limits of coal or steam poured into the pressurized steam lines beneath the deck.

A fraction of a second later, the port boiler exploded with a catastrophic BOOM.

The massive forty-foot iron churn-wheel tore free from its mountings, its shattered iron paddles flying into the sea as a towering geyser of scalding steam blasted through the quarterdeck. The dreadnought shuddered violently, lurching forty degrees to port as the uneven weight of its iron hull dragged the stern down into the churning abyss of the Deep Trench.

Through the cloud of white steam, a hulking figure in dark, steam-vented plate armor stepped out from the ruined wheelhouse, drawing a giant, broad-headed iron claymore.

General Vane had arrived.